Dub techno. Not the most glamorous of dance music's many subgenres. What the hell does dub have to do with techno – and vice versa – anyway? Spend a little time with Basic Channel's 1995 classic 'BCD', however, and it all becomes clear. Done well, the combination of dub's warm, throbbing bass and techno's insistent 4/4 pulse actually works a treat, and tonight, east London’s no. 1 rave cave is a Mecca to the sound.
Or at least that's what it looks like on paper. Arriving at half ten to find the club already packed and sweaty, DJ Pete (or Substance, to those in the know) is dropping some extremely sick tunes, melding the likes of Redshape, Surgeon and, of course, Basic Channel to powerful, propulsive effect. Even the clanged mixes sound sweet. Patently he's loving it, and so is the crowd. I catch him, post-set, on the way into the loo and thank him for a tune. "You're very welcome" he declares with inimitable German zeal, grinning from cheek to cheek.
At half eleven, a bespectacled, gawky, knackered-looking Sleeparchive rocks up with his laptop to deliver the live PA that so many people are here for. Having witnessed him tear up Fabric a year earlier, I'm all geared up for another barnstorming performance, and, happily, I'm not let down. To some his sound is the epitome of monotonous, bleepy minimal trash, but to those who've studied the dark arts of repetitive club music it's really quite sublime. He fairly tears the place up, teasing the crowd with a cavernous kick and periodic flashes of bleachy white noise, finishing with a crunching half-step ditto that just brings the roof down. It's not dub techno, but quite frankly, no-one gives a monkeys.
By the time he finishes - to rapturous applause - it's approaching 1am and the crowd is baying for more of the same. Unfortunately, DJ Pete appears to have let the beers he's been slugging overcome his judgement, and proceeds to drop a string of tried-and-tested dubstep wobblers the likes of which Skream, Mala and co have been smacking in this very venue for donkey's years. Nein! Things only worsen when Mark Ernestus – one half of (you guessed it) Basic Channel – emerges from the shadows to play an unmixed 7" dancehall set. I've nothing against dancehall (nor 7" vinyl for that matter), and much of what he plays is excellent, but it's a sad case of 'wrong DJ at the wrong time'.
That he looks bored witless – shuffling about awkwardly behind the decks – only adds to the vibe-sapping atmosphere, and by the time the police turn up to remind the club that they've overrun their licence (!), the dancefloor is largely deserted. It's a sorry conclusion to a night that peaked just that little bit too early.
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